


Where Loyalties Lie

by DrunkenWinky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alastor Moody has zero time for your bullshit, Angst, Discord: Dumbledore's Armada, Emmeline Vance is a good friend, Gen, Loyalty, Mild Dumbledore Bashing, One Shot, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkenWinky/pseuds/DrunkenWinky
Summary: "Victory, Moody thought sardonically, closing his eyes as he leaned his head to rest against the wall at his back. This wasn’t a victory."At the last meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, Alastor Moody has several questions for Albus Dumbledore. And he's going to get answers.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23
Collections: Bronze & Gold





	Where Loyalties Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Starryar (Breadmione)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breadmione/pseuds/Starryar) in the [BronzeGold](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BronzeGold) collection. 



> Written for Dumbledore’s Armada’s “Bronze&Gold” Flash Comp Fest. 
> 
> Thank you so much to Starryar and Pandroa_Rose_xo for hosting such a fun comp! 
> 
> Prompt: Alastor Moody
> 
> Winner of  
> -Best ‘Behind the Scenes’ Fic Award  
> -Overall Favorite Award  
> -Host’s Favorite-Starryar’s Award

_2nd November, 1981_

Alastor Moody sat, brows drawn and lips turned down, in the over crowded dining room of Safehouse Six in Upper Flagley, England. The Order Members who turned up for the final meeting, as Dumbledore had declared it, were all that remained of the Order of the Phoenix. There was only one who would be missing the conclusion of their operations, and that was Elphias Doge, as he was to watch the house on Privet Drive.

Moody patted his left breast pocket, ensuring he’d remembered the physical reminder of the Order’s failures. He tapped his clawed foot in a rapid staccato against the dusty wooden floor, adding to the low hum of noise that filled the small space. Soft conversations were being carried out all around him, no one speaking above a whisper, no one daring to drown out the somber notes that rang above the supposed victory march.

_Victory_ , Moody thought sardonically, closing his eyes as he leaned his head to rest against the wall at his back. This wasn’t a victory. They had been losing the war and everyone had known it. But now, while the rest of Wizarding Britain celebrated the downfall of Voldemort, those who had actually stood and fought against him wept in grief and anger in a shack outside of Yorkshire.

The floo in the hall roared to life, signaling the arrival of their leader, the man who had played General to them during the war. Moody’s dark beady eyes snapped open, narrowing in anticipation as he watched the wizard make his entrance.

In a flourish of neatly pressed purple robes, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the archway, his wrinkled face arranged in a mournful expression. He looked comically out of place as he stood before the dirty, washed out assembly. His robes were as clean as his hands. 

Moody’s left eye twitched in irritation as the room fell to near silence before their savior.

“Thank you all for coming tonight, as I know the last few days have been most difficult for all of us,” Dumbledore began. An anguished cry rented the air from the far side of the room. Moody turned, unable to help himself, and could only watch as a frazzled and teary eyed Emmeline Vance attempted to console an inconsolable Remus Lupin.

_Children_ , Moody thought, _they're just children and they’ve seen and lost so much—were forced to do so much._ It sickened him, but now was _not_ the time for wallowing. Now was _not_ the time to disband and call it a job finished. Which is why Moody wrenched his eyes away from the shell of a man that was barely holding together and fixed his stare on the one he felt was responsible for their current predicament.

“As you are all aware,” Dumbledore continued, after allowing a few moments for Vance to get the young werewolf under control. “This is the final meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, since we’ve completed our task—”

“Is that so?” Moody barked, sure that the sorrowful yet hope-filled tune the old man had planned to sing would’ve been most inspiring. But Moody had no patience for it. He’d run out of patience long ago.

Heads turned to him from all sides, each face aghast that someone had dared to interrupt. Dumbledore looked taken aback for only a moment, but recovered quickly and returned Moody’s glare with a cool and restrained look of indifference.

“Do you have something you’d like to say, Alastor?” Dumbledore asked in a tone more suited for a misbehaving child than the Ministry’s most efficient Auror. 

Moody’s hackles raised. “Where’s the boy—the Potter’s son?” 

He’d have answers from Dumbledore, this time. The war was over, so Moody could not see any reason for the man’s beloved secrets anymore. Everyone present had earned their trust, proven their loyalty tenfold. They deserved to know the truth, and Moody would be damned if they didn’t get it.

“Harry is with his only remaining family, Alastor. I’m sure you know that—”

“The Muggles?” Moody scoffed. “You mean Lily’s sister, the one who despises everything to do with magic, and her oaf of a husband? _That’s_ who you’ve chosen to leave the boy to?” His voice shook, years of pent up confusion and fury rising like a great wave inside him. “How can you possibly think he’d be safe with them, when Death Eaters still roam free?”

Dumbledore sighed. “There’s magic in place that will keep Harry safe—”

“Just as magic kept Lily and James safe, Dumbledore?”

A collective gasp erupted around the room, Hagrid heaving up a shout of disapproval, but Moody barreled forward. “And what of Sirius Black? Why’d I get word that we’re not even opening an investigation into his involvement?”

“It’s an open and close case, Alastor—”

“It’s _never_ an open and close case.”

The two stared at each other, locked in a battle of wills, as the other occupants of the room shifted uncomfortably, the tension rising higher still. Finally, someone spoke.

“Professor Dumbledore, sir?” High pitched and timid, Moody instantly knew the speaker to be Arabella Figg. 

“I’ve lived at Privet Drive for many years, and have watched the Dursley family, just as you asked.” The small woman’s voice shook. “And...I agree with Alastor. Meaning, I can see where his concerns come from. The Dursleys, they are…” she swallowed. “They are awful.”

“Let me watch over the boy,” called another voice, and Moody turned to see that Sturgis Podmore now stood from his chair. “My wife and I have no children, and would treat him as our own. Harry would be able to grow up amongst those who knew and loved his parents. Remus,” Sturgis turned his striking blue eyes to the hollow man in the corner. “Remus, you’d be allowed to come and visit him any time. Harry deserves to grow up knowing you.” 

Remus didn’t raise his head, instead burrowing his face deeper into Vance’s shoulder as his own shook with silent sobs.

“Harry’s living arrangement is not up for discussion,” Dumbledore said, his statement taking on a sharp tone.

“Why not?” Moody interjected over the murmurs that began to rise among the few gathered. “Why don’t we get a say? We cared for the boy, all of us have. We cared for Lily and James, too,” Moody paused, taking a breath before continuing.

“Yesterday, we found out what happened to Alice and Frank. Two Aurors tortured into insanity, and those who did it are still at large!” 

The murmurs rose into hushed discussions. 

“At least allow the boy to live with one of us until we’ve rounded up the rest of the lot. The Potters deserve their son to be safe. We owe it to them to ensure that he’s well protected—”

“—Alastor,” Dumbledore warned.

“—we owe it to them to protect their son like we couldn’t protect them—”

“Enough!” The walls of the small shack shook as Dumbledore’s voice boomed over them, his wand held to his throat to magically amplify his voice.

“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore stated, his voice now much quieter and less lethal than the moment before. “Is to stay with his remaining blood relatives. I assure you that he will be safe, protected by more powerful magic than any of us could ever provide,” he paused, taking note of the several skeptical glares aimed his way from those before him. “And that’s all I can tell you of this matter.”

“That’s all you can tell us?”

Dumbledore nodded.

“All three Lestranges are still at large, Dumbledore,” Moody growled, reaching into the left breast pocket of his cloak. “Malfoy. Goyle. Karkaroff. Travers. Need I go on? All of them still walk free. All of them a threat to Potter. So if you think the boy’s safe with the pair of Muggles, then—” 

“If you’re so worried about it, Alastor,” Dumbledore interrupted coolly. “Then why are you _here_?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked, why are you here?” Dumbledore turned his body towards Moody, giving him his undivided attention. “If you are so sure that I’ve misjudged the protection in place surrounding Harry Potter and that those you’ve listed off pose a threat to him, then why are you here at this meeting and not out doing your job to _round them up_?”

Moody’s left eye twitched again.

“So, that’s it then, is it?” Moody asked, voice as thick and rough as gravel. “That’s your final decision?” 

Dumbledore said nothing. 

With a grunt, Alastor Moody rose from his chair in the back corner of the room and limped his way towards the hall. He felt the eyes of his fellow soldiers burning holes in the back of his cloak, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. 

He hadn’t gotten the answers he wanted, but he got the answer they all needed. It was clear to anyone who had truly listened that Albus Dumbledore didn’t care about them or the Potter boy’s safety. He only cared about what role they could play for the _‘greater good’,_ and Moody was sick of losing body parts in the name of it. 

He stepped out the front door of Safehouse Six and into the chilly autumn air, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts. Moody reached into his cloak, fishing out the crumpled piece of parchment he’d carried with him and read the names he’d written earlier that evening. The things that still needed attending, the final tasks of the Order. 

But, as he looked at the names, he realized that crossing off each one would mean more than a job complete. But, meant the safety for The Boy Who Lived that now slept in a Muggle home in Surrey.

That night, Alastor Moody vowed not to rest, not to cease until every Death Eater that could threaten the life of Harry Potter, the child of the two bravest Gryffindors he’d ever known, were behind bars or dead.

Nodding to himself, now more sure in his intentions and loyalties than ever, Moody turned on his heel and vanished from the bottom step with a loud and final crack.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so so so so SO much to my lovely alpha/beta Mimifreed. I wouldn't have been able to stop slamming my head against the keyboard without you 😘 if you haven’t already, you should deffo check out her stuff! She’s brilliant!


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